On Black Wings
by MazzieRoko
Summary: Raven is an elf on the run, hiding in Kirkwall and claiming to be human. One day in Darktown she meets a certain mage refugee and elven warrior. Her plans quickly fall apart as her secrets come to light, and she must decide who she can trust.
1. Chapter 1

"You're sure it's her, Varric?" asked the man who smelled of magic. Three other armed males stood with him.

"She matches the description," the beardless dwarf answered with a nod, looking Raven over appraisingly. "Pale, blue eyes, black hair, with black armor and twin daggers. And the scar is hard to miss, too."

"Finally," the taller of the two human males sniffed. "We've been all over Darktown looking for you."

Raven's blood ran cold as they spoke. They had a description of her and were looking for her. Kaffas, they had to be the slavers Tomwise mentioned. She should have been more careful. There were only four of them, but one was a mage of unknown strength, and who knew how many other hunters were lurking nearby. She needed to get out of here.

She opened the pouch on her belt and snatching up a smoke bomb from it.

"Hey – " started the dwarf, as Raven threw the bomb to the ground. The casing shattered and black smoke billowed up to obscure the entire passage within seconds.

Raven shot over an old rail cart and ran east. Right before the corner she twisted around just long enough to let loose a throwing knife toward the hunters. She briefly locked eyes with the mage, who had already cleared the smoke with a blast of wind. Then she was around the corner and sprinting.

She needed to leave Kirkwall. Honestly, she had stayed too long already. Kaffas, she would need supplies. Food would be scarce in the Free Marches winter, and the next city was weeks away. She felt the weight of the coin purse against her hip. And she needed to get this coin to Bran, especially because she was leaving. She felt a pang in her chest, but ignored it. She couldn't stay with them now, especially with the hunters on her trail again.

Raven chanced a glance behind her as she shot past a startled elven woman. No sign of the hunters. Yet, at least. She growled to herself. She had to chance it, had to go back to the Nest. If Andraste listened to elves, let her keep the hunters from finding Raven there.

Another few twisting passages led her to the Nest. At her rushed entrance Lily shot up from her seat on a crate, the mending dropping from her hands. The younger ones looked up at her from where they were playing in the dirt, drawing with sticks. Bran turned to look at her with a startled expression, a hand on the dagger at his hip.

"Bran," Raven breathed, quick fingers untying her coin purse from her belt. She tossed it to him, momentary gladdened when he caught it with one hand. His reflexes were improving. Maybe he could manage as a mercenary or smuggler if he had more practice.

"Raven? What's the matter?" Bran asked, glancing between her and the passageway she had just emerged from.

"Here, quickly," Raven answered, beckoning as she marched to her little corner. She snatched up the pack where she kept her few things. "I have to go. The people I told you about, they're here," she said in a low voice to Bran. She glanced at the gathering of crates that served as their kitchen, set up toward the back of their camp. She knew they had little food left right now. No, she wouldn't take it. She would have to steal something before leaving Kirkwall. That, or use the few silvers she had sewn into the hem of her undershirt for emergencies. Such as this very situation.

"There's coin there for a week, if you use it wisely. Go back to Lirene, she'll figure something out," Raven said, nodding at the purse clutched in Bran's hand.

The boy's hand tightened on his dagger. "If…if you're in trouble, I…" he stammered.

Raven gripped his upper arms. The teenager was several inches taller than her, so she had to look up to lock gazes with him. "Absolutely not," she hissed. "Take the kids, lie low. Get them to Lirene, tell her I'm gone. Got it?"

Bran looked over Raven's shoulder, seeing the young kids watching curiously and Lily watching anxiously. She hadn't heard any of the conversation, but could tell something was not right.

"Yeah, I got it," he mumbled, then took a deep breath.

Raven nodded, releasing her hold on him. Her gaze flickered to the others briefly. At the pang in her chest she looked back to Bran. "I'm sorry to leave this responsibility to you. But please, trust me on this," she said, voice low and strained.

Bran nodded. He hesitated, then squeezed Raven's shoulder with one hand. "Good luck, Raven," he said, then turned from her. She watched him approach the youngsters and beckon to Lily. The girl gave Raven a worried look, but at a nod from her she moved to join Bran. Raven pulled the pack over a shoulder and turned away, sprinting back the way she had come.

Raven didn't make it far before the scent of magic hit her again. She had time only to reach for her daggers before a weight slammed into her and sent her stumbling back against the wall. The big human.

"Carver!" the mage shouted angrily, but the man ignored him.

"You nearly took my eye out with that knife!" he shouted at Raven, referring to the blade she had thrown earlier. He advanced with menace but without his sword drawn. That was his mistake.

Raven dropped the pack off her shoulder. She launched herself off the wall, grabbing her daggers from her back and going in high with the dagger in her right hand aimed at the human's chest. She could drop this one, then lead the others away from the Nest. She couldn't let these slave hunters anywhere near the kids.

The human's face contorted from anger to surprise at Raven's speed. As he reached over his back for his sword Raven slashed the dagger in her left hand across his raised arm. Before her other dagger could sink into his chest, a bolt slammed into her right upper arm. She grunted with the impact, the force enough to jerk her arm back and save the man from a blade to the heart. The damned dwarf had a crossbow.

"Raven, stop!" called the mage, but his staff was raised. "We're not here to fight you!"

No, just here to take her back to Tevinter.

She grit her teeth and dodged around the swordsman. She had dropped the dagger from her injured right arm, so was now down to one. She needed to take the mage out, before he could –

The elf warrior was suddenly between her and the mage, broadsword clanging against her dagger. Raven was surprised he could move so quickly, especially with a large sword. She recovered, pulling back and twisting to come in low with a swipe at the elf's legs. He jumped back to avoid the blow. Raven shot up from her crouched position, turning as she detected the human swordsman behind her. She ducked down and around him again, coming up behind him.

"Carver!" the mage shouted again, this time in warning.

Raven poised her dagger to strike, aiming high on his back past the broadsword strapped there. She caught sight of someone from the corner of her eye. Bran, holding one of the youngsters by the hand, coming from the direction of the Nest. The teen and the child, Garen, both looked at her with wide eyes. Raven's breath caught in her throat. No, they couldn't be there. The slavers –

An electric shock shot through her body, freezing her in place. She cried out, the pain raging through her veins. As her vision darkened at the edges she saw Bran pull the boy back and run the other way. There were other passages Bran could lead them through to reach Lowtown. She didn't have a moment to be relieved, though, as she collapsed to the dirt.

"Shit, Hawke. What happened to 'We don't want to fight'?" the dwarf said somewhere beyond Raven's closed eyes.

"It was just a small shock! It should've only paralyzed her for a few seconds." That was the mage.

Raven could hear footsteps over the sound of her ragged breathing. The pain began to subside. She was _not_ going to give in. Forcing her eyes open, she spotted her dagger where she had dropped it. She reached for it and tried to roll to her knees at the same time, her muscles still shaking. She inhaled sharply as the act of reaching sent more pain cutting through her arm where the bolt stuck through the flesh.

The elven swordsman seized her outstretched arm and yanked her up violently. She grunted through gritted teeth as he slammed her against the wall of the passageway, holding her several inches off the ground. "Venhedis! Enough!" he growled at her.

"Fuck you," Raven hissed vehemently, glowering at the elf. Why would an elf help slavers? He must be a mercenary, caring more for coin than people. Or maybe a brainwashed pet. She still felt a buzz at the base of her skull plus involuntary muscle twitches. Her vision swam. It would take a long while for the effects of the magic to wear off, and by then they would surely have her secured and on a ship back to Tevinter.

This was it. This was how she would be captured, a runaway pet caught and returned to its master. A pet that would be brought to heel once more. All her memories would become reality again. Raven's eyes began to water, and a bitter sense of inevitability settled in her gut.

"Damn it, Carver, hold still," the mage said, standing off to the side examining the cut Raven had given the swordsman's arm. "Let me heal that, it's not too deep."

The other hunters were distracted for the moment, Raven realized. If she could get the elf to loosen his grip, maybe she still had a fighting chance. If not…well, she was _not_ going to be dragged back there. If she couldn't escape, then maybe she could still deny the magister his _property_. Pleading wouldn't work, not with slavers set on a bounty. Maybe she could goad the elf into killing her. Or maybe the human swordsman, he seemed angry enough. She spat curses and insults in Tevene, directed at the elf pinning her to the wall. The elf's green eyes narrowed but before he could respond there were suddenly small fists pounding on his leg.

"Get offa her!" the little human boy screamed. "Let Mama go!"

Raven's eyes widened and panic gripped her heart. She renewed her struggle under the elf's vice-like grasp. "Run!" she hissed at the child. How had he gotten away from Bran and Lily?

"Hawke. Do something about this," the elf grumbled, looking at the mage in exasperation. His grip on Raven's arms only tightened against her struggles. Damn that spell, she was stronger than this. She could throw people around with little effort normally, when her muscles weren't sparking with an electric spell.

The mage chuckled, stepping over and pulling the boy back by his shirt.

"Don't fucking touch him!" Raven growled. She tried to wretch an arm free, but the elf's clawed gauntlets only bit further into her skin.

The mage frowned at Raven, but his attention was pulled back to Garen as the boy turned his assault on him. The mage crouched, gripping the boy by the shoulders to hold him far back enough that his little fists couldn't reach him. "And what's your name? How old are you?" he asked, smiling.

"Garen," the boy said defiantly, chin out as he glared at the mage. He scrubbed a fist across his dirt-streaked face. "I'm almos' five. Papa says that's little. But I can beat you!"

The mage was still smiling. "Well, Garen. I'm Garrett. You certainly are awfully strong for only four. I think Fenris here is going to have bruises," he said with a nod toward the elf, who huffed and rolled his eyes.

Kaffas. They were going to take him. A healthy child who would take up little room on a ship and who could easily be molded into an obedient slave.

"Let him go, mage," Raven demanded. Kaffas, she was in no position to threaten. It would only make them angrier. Fasta vass, she had to beg. "I…," she paused, swallowing her disgust for her next words. "I'll cooperate. I'll do anything." She stopped struggling, illustrating her words. It was a lie of course. As soon as Garen was safe and she had a chance, she would slit these hunters' throats.

The dwarf chuckled. "'Anything' can cover a lot of things. Sure you want to offer that?"

Raven smothered a sneer. "Yes," she said through gritted teeth. "Just don't hurt him. Let him go."

Now the mage looked puzzled, frowning as he looked at her. "I wouldn't hurt a kid," he baulked. He turned back to Garen, then his gaze flicked past him. Raven followed his line of sight, spotting Bran standing in the shadows. Panic was obvious in his expression, his dagger gripped tightly in his right hand. Garen must have managed to pull away from him and run back after they saw Raven go down.

"Is that your father?" the mage asked Garen, lifting a hand in greeting toward Bran. The teenager did look older than his sixteen years, between the facial hair, hard life, and the shadows of Darktown. Bran stayed where he was, not returning the wave. The mage's brow furrowed as he frowned.

The boy followed the mage's gaze, then nodded. "Papa," he said. Neither Bran nor Raven were related to him, but the child had insisted on calling the two of them his parents. Likely because they were the oldest, tallest, and the ones who provided the most. Raven always corrected him, but he ignored her scolding on the matter. There was no point in correcting him in this situation, though.

Bran looked to Raven, eyes asking if he should get involved. Raven shook her head once, lifting her chin to point back toward the passageway. Vox morti, he needed to get away. Now. The mage watched the exchange, before kneeling again to face the boy.

The mage patted the boy's shoulder. "Why don't you go on back to him, hm? We're just going to talk with your mama," he paused, looking at the bolt in Raven's arm. "…and take her to a healer. Alright?"

Raven gritted her teeth at the obvious lie. She would be packaged up and taken to Tevinter, never to see Garen or the other kids again. But if this meant they would leave Bran and the others alone, she could stay quiet. For now.

Garen looked uncertain, mouthing his knuckles as he looked at Raven, still pinned against the wall. She managed a half-smile. "It's okay, Garen. I'll be back later." She could lie as well, to get the child out of danger.

The child still looked unconvinced, but he nodded and turned to run to Bran. The teen sheathed his dagger and scooped up the kid, squeezing him tight. The boy was pointing at Raven and the others, likely repeating what he had been told. The mage watched them, head tilted slightly. Bran's worried look didn't change, though. He took one last look at Raven, indecision in his eyes. Raven glared back. Bran turned and disappeared down a different shadowed passage. Raven exhaled in relief.

The mage stood, turning a quizzical look on Raven. "Fenris, let her go." The elf scowled but complied, releasing his grip. She scraped down the wall the few inches to the ground. She tried to steady herself, still leaning against the wall, her muscles weak from the spasms.

"I think I'm missing something here," the mage continued, frowning. "Let's start with why you're so intent on killing us."

Raven took a deep breath, leaning on her knees as if for support. As she pulled herself up straight and away from the wall with a jerk, her left fingers pulled a throwing knife from her belt. Just as she twisted her wrist to flick the blade at the mage a spell hit her full in the chest. The throwing knife fell from her grasp as she stumbled back into the wall, her back scraping against it as she fell to a seating position. The world spun, her body grew heavy, and her mind grew foggy. Her eyes snapped shut and her chin fell to her chest.

"Just a sleeping spell, Varric," Raven heard the mage say reassuringly from far away. "Carver, think you can carry her to Anders's clinic? It's close, and he's a far better healer."

"She tried to kill me!"

The mage sighed. "Fenris?"

She barely felt her body shift, being pulled upward into someone's arms. The healer was working with slavers? That bastard. When she saw him again she would… she… would…

With that last thought, Raven faded into darkness.


	2. Chapter 2

Just a quick note - the Tevene coming from Raven is mostly nonsense I made up. It's a mix of known Tevene, Latin, butchered Latin, and made up stuff. So, just know that most of it is Raven swearing and saying other not-nice things. :)

* * *

A sharp pain pulled Raven back from the depths of sleep. She tried to open her eyes, sit up, anything. All she managed was a flinch and small groan.

"It's alright, Raven," a male voice said, somewhere in front of her. "You're at my clinic. I'm going to pull the bolt out now, then heal the wound. I know you don't like magic, but under the circumstances I think you'll allow it."

Raven began to panic as his words registered. She had been hit with enough magic today. She could feel her pulse pumping quickly, her body trying to purify itself of the magic in her blood. She concentrated inward, fighting against the fog, focusing on willing the magic to dissipate.

Sharp pain ripped through her as the bolt was pulled from her arm. She groaned through gritted teeth. Raven grasped at the pain, holding it, using it to focus her mind and charge her body so she could better shake off the spell.

"Okay, Raven. It's out. I'll have this sealed in a moment," Anders said, his hands hovering over the bleeding wound.

"No…," Raven managed, panic rising as she felt the static of a healing spell taking form. She heard the mage huff, but could still feel the spell charging, the skin on her arm tingling on the point of being painful as the mage's hand clasped over the wound. Stabs of pain shot through her arm and shoulder. Mustering her willpower Raven moved, her other arm shooting out. There was a small "whoosh" sound as her fingers wrapped around the mage's wrist. His healing spell fizzled out immediately.

"No. Magic. Mage," Raven growled, glaring at the blonde healer.

Anders said nothing for a moment, looking at the woman in surprise. His expression transitioned from startled to suspicious as he glanced from Raven's fingers clasped around his wrist up to her face. "That was… a spell purge. You nullified the magic."

Raven released his wrist and drew her hand back sharply. Shit. This was going to be trouble.

"To do that, you would need to be a mage… or a templar," Anders said, tone accusatory. "Which is it, Raven?"

She looked away from the mage, concentrating on pulling herself to a seated position on the wooden cot. She slid her legs over the edge and pulled herself up, vision spinning. She closed her eyes, clamping a hand across them. She could feel warm blood running down her now-bare right arm.

"All the scars on your hand and arm. Are you a blood mage? Concealing your aura this whole time?" Anders demanded angrily, jumping to conclusions in his suspiciousness. "Or a templar, skulking around Darktown looking for apostates?"

Raven shook her head slightly, opening her eyes. She tried to slide her bare right arm behind her, attempting in vain to hide the scars running vertically along her forearm. "Neither. I'm not a mage, much less a blighted _blood mage_ ," she growled as she scrambled for an explanation. "And I'm not a templar. _Fasta vass_ ," she exclaimed in exasperation. "I'm _nothing_."

"Then how?" Anders demanded, clearly not believing her.

Raven held up her left hand, the one she had used to grab Anders. The black sleeve slid down enough to reveal a bracelet made of twisting braids of leather and dark blue beads. "It's enchanted. Works against low-level spells. Some of them, at least. And I have to make skin-to-skin contact for it to work," she explained. She hated revealing anything of her abilities to him, even when lying about their origin, but this was better than having him think she was a mage hiding out or a templar undercover. The man hated templars, which means if he thought she was one, especially one who knew he was an apostate, who knew what he would do.

Anders stared at her, frowning, with his arms crossed. "There are enchantments increasing one's resistance to magic, providing additional protection against it. I've never heard of one capable of completely nullifying a spell."

"It is uncommon here," Raven said quietly, biting her lip and looking away from the healer.

"'Here?'" asked Anders, now sounding curious. "Then where did you get it?"

Raven berated herself. Wisps of the sleeping spell still swirled in her mind, leaving her less guarded. She needed to get away now before something more important slipped. "I'm leaving," she said abruptly, moving to push off the cot.

Anders stepped forward, pushing her left shoulder to keep her sitting. He sighed, but did not continue his line of questioning. His impulse to help overshadowed his curiosity. "Let me bandage it, at least," he said, exasperated, nodding at the wound. "Since you're so opposed to magic, even though it is a much _quicker_ option."

Raven chewed her lip, trying to think. There was no harm in having him wrap the wound, as long as there was no magic involved. And this would mean she didn't need to buy bandages. Finally she nodded her consent. Anders handed her a cloth to press against the wound while he gathered supplies to clean and wrap it. As he worked, Raven tried to think. She spotted her pack sitting by the end of the cot. Had she been going somewhere? How had she come to be at the clinic in Darktown? Where had the bolt come from? And the spells…

The memories of the fight with the slavers came back. She remembered how the mage had mentioned Anders. It was the slavers who had brought her here. She looked around, spotting the four standing in a group across the clinic, talking. Likely discussing how best to get her onto a ship, or how to spend their reward money. Raven clenched her jaw in anger, glaring at the mage wrapping a bandage around her arm.

"I figured the altruism must be an act," she grumbled.

Anders glanced at her in confusion before returning to his work, tying off the bandage. "What are you talking about?"

"I knew it couldn't be real, this helping people for nothing thing. Or did the slavers just make a really good offer? One that convinced you to compromise your morals or something." She jerked her chin to indicate the group of slavers.

"Wait." Anders stared at her, dumbfounded. "You think Hawke and the others are _slavers_?"

Raven narrowed her eyes. Why lie, try to trick her, at this point? Was he just trying to salvage his own conscious by pretending he _wasn't_ helping slavers?

Anders shook his head at Raven's disbelief. He stood up, calling to the group. "Hawke. Come over here," he said with a wave.

Raven's gaze shifted from Anders, whose back was to her, and the clinic's door. Maybe she could make it out. She slid off the cot, stumbling when she tried to stand. She pressed a hand against her head, dizzy. Damned sleeping spell.

"Oh no. You stay right here," Anders ordered, pushing her back to sit on the cot again. Raven opened her eyes to glare at the healer. She wasn't strong enough yet to do more than that.

"Good job, Anders. It looks like she'll live," said the mage as he approached, smiling slightly.

"Hawke. She thinks you're a slaver," Anders said, looking slightly amused.

The mage physically jerked back, blinking in surprise. "What?!" The other human sported a wry smile, the elf huffed a laugh, and the dwarf actually chuckled. Raven grit her teeth, glance darting from person to person. Was it possible…that they _weren't_ slavers?

"Hawke. A slaver," said the dwarf. "Guess when we killed those slavers on the Wounded Coast we were just thinning out the competition," he said with a wink.

The mage, Hawke, crossed his arms and looked at Raven thoughtfully. "That's why you ran?" Raven bit her lip subconsciously, meeting the human's eyes, searching for deception.

"And tried to kill us," added the now scowling human swordsman.

Hawke ignored him, still eyeing Raven with a calculating look. "And with your son. You thought we were going to take him," he stated certainly instead of asked.

"He's not my son," Raven said, tone harsh. But, she thought, if he really was a hunter sent after her, he would know she didn't have kids before escaping and hadn't been on the run long enough to have a four year-old.

Hawke raised an eyebrow in confusion, but didn't ask about the boy. "Why would you think we were slavers?" he asked curiously.

"Why else would you have a description of me? Why would you be looking for me, if you're not slavers?" she asked with spite.

"Athenril gave us the information," Hawke answered. It was Raven's turn to look surprised.

"Fasta vass, stamen malum ipsi. Ven kaffar nox morti," she mumbled in aggravation, bringing a hand to her head. The swordsman elf gave her an odd look, hearing her swearing extensively in Tevene again. Raven looked down, running both her hands through her hair and along her scalp. Had the smuggler been upset enough about the botched job to send people after her? If she had put the kids at risk over a job…Damn that elf, she had agreed to be discreet about Raven working for her. _Fasta vass_ this was a disaster. And she really wanted to sleep. "Why would she tell you anything about me?" she finally asked, still glaring at her knees and scraping her fingernails against her scalp, fighting drowsiness.

"I used to work for her. I'm planning an expedition in the spring, and I'm looking for skilled people to join me. I asked her if she knew anyone capable. She mentioned you, and said you're usually lurking around Darktown, so we came here." Hawke explained. He raised an eyebrow again, looking at Raven. "…She didn't mention you were an elf, though."

Raven froze, fingers still tangled in her hair. Kaffas. When she moved her hair, they had seen her ears. What was left of them, anyhow. When had her damned cowl fallen down? Shit. All this time keeping the fact she was an elf hidden, and she had just ruined it in one careless moment.

Raven slowly moved her hands again, using the thick locks of hair to hide her ears. She reached behind her head, finding her cowl bunched at the base of her neck. She tug at the material, bringing it back over her head, safely covering her ears. She raised her head and glared at Hawke.

"I'm not," she said with finality.

The human swordsman huffed. "Just because you're ears are cut doesn't mean you're not an elf."

Raven bristled, glaring daggers at the human. She bit the inside of her lip. She had revealed too much today. They knew she was on the lookout for slavers, about the kids, that she could nullify some spells, and now knew that she wasn't human as she claimed to be. Even if these people weren't slavers, could she really be safe with them knowing so much about her?

Hawke's face had twitched at the swordsman's comment. "Well. I'm Garrett Hawke. The insensitive brute is my younger brother, Carver. You know Anders, apparently. The dwarf with the chest hair is Varric, and the tattooed elf is Fenris." He huffed a small laugh, glancing at Fenris. "If any of us are definitely not a slaver, it's him."

Raven stared at the elf, who narrowed his green eyes at her in response. His name was… Fenris? Her eyes wandered over the white lines visible where his armor left bare skin exposed. The elf scowled at her inspection, but didn't move.

Hawke watched Raven curiously, gaze flickering between her and Fenris. "Raven," he started, gently, as if she was a wild animal that might startle and run. Raven's gaze snapped to the mage. "You thought we were slavers. But why would slavers be after you?" He seemed to already have an idea of the answer.

Raven sneered. "It doesn't matter. And I'm not interested in any expedition of yours. And I'm _leaving_ ," she said bluntly, sliding off the cot to her feet. She had to focus on balance for a moment, but managed to stay upright. She needed to leave, to figure out what to do about all this.

"Come on, Raven," said Varric, voice smooth. "At least take a walk with us, hear about the job. We can stop in Hightown and find you a new shirt. I owe you one, after all," he said, gesturing to her right arm. The sleeve had been cut way up to the shoulder to allow Anders better access to the wound caused by Varric's bolt.

Raven didn't bother replying, grabbing her pack from the ground by the cot. She checked the contents, glad to see someone had placed her daggers within it. She swung it over her left shoulder and straightened, glaring at the men standing between her and the door.

"Can I ask why you won't at least consider the job? It'll be dangerous, sure, but it'll pay really well," Hawke said, trying to sound convincing.

Raven scowled. Sure, she could use more coin, but after today she didn't feel she should even stick around Kirkwall, especially all the way until spring. Even if… even _though_ these people were not hunters, they knew too much about her. If they mentioned her, even in passing, and the wrong person were to hear… Besides, she had been in one place too long. Surely hunters would arrive at some point. Her gaze flickered to Fenris again. With him here, it was all the more likely hunters would show up sooner rather than later. And Lirene would look out for the kids.

"Raven?" Hawke asked, noticing the glaring between the rogue and Fenris.

"Vox kaffas, _no_ ," Raven snapped, turning on the mage. "I don't work with _mages_ ," she said vehemently, settling on this as a believable excuse.

Hawke sighed, frustrated. He stepped aside, however, and waved for the others to do the same. Raven squared her shoulders and marched past them. She paused at the door, but didn't look back. She could feel them staring daggers into her back.

"I'll be by later to pay you, healer," she said, opening the door.

"I told you, you don't need –" Anders said with exasperation, cut off as Raven slammed the door behind her. Running a hand along the dirty wall to help with her balance, she made her way for Lowtown. She would need to find the kids at Lirene's. She needed to be sure they were safe, and let them know she was safe, before she left Kirkwall for good.

"Anders," said Hawke, turning to the healer. "When we brought her in you said you know her. What's her story?"

Anders huffed a humorless chuckle. "Maybe 'know' isn't the right word. She's been in here before, but only to bring kids in for healing. I thought the little ones might be hers, but there's a couple older ones, too." He shook his head. "Even if she's injured when she comes in she refuses to let me help because she hates magic. Other than that, I don't know much about her. I didn't even know she wasn't human."

"She also speaks Tevene, and thinks slavers are hunting her," rumbled Fenris. "I would guess she is a fugitive slave from Tevinter. Passing herself off as human must be part of her attempt to elude pursuers."

Hawke gave a curt nod. "My thoughts, exactly. It does certainly sound similar to your situation."

"But without the glowy skin part," Varric added in amusement.

Anders looked thoughtful. "Being from Tevinter might explain that bracelet," he said. He went on to describe her enchanted bracelet that she had used to nullify his healing spell. "The magisters there possess an infinite number of magical secrets. Perhaps she stole it from a magister. Her master, maybe."

" _Former_ master," Fenris bit out. "She has escaped slavery. No one owns her any longer."

Hawke nodded. "Exactly. But, after today, I don't think she'll be eager to help us on the expedition."

"Seems like it," Varric said with a sigh. "Well, I think we should call it a day and head to the Hanged Man for drinks. First round is on me."

Hawke nodded and the group left the Darktown clinic, though he was still thinking of the dark-haired, elven rogue hiding from slavers.


	3. Chapter 3

Night had fallen on Kirkwall by the time Raven reached Lowtown, hours after her encounter with the not-slavers. Her jacket helped against the cold wind. She was glad for a moment that she had grabbed it from her pack before leaving it at Lirene's. Raven swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, wiping blood away from the cut at her hairline. Scrabbling around to track a group and hide in rocky crevices within the caverns to avoid detection had left her with cuts, scrapes, and bruises. The trip back had provided her the time to decide on a course of action. It wasn't one she was particularly fond of, but she had little choice. She had discretely asked around once returning to the city, finally getting directions to this particular home. She took a deep breath, still mentally berating herself over her decisions.

After a moment's hesitation Raven knocked lightly on the door to the Lowtown hovel. An older man with stringy gray hair answered, scowling at her. "Good evening, messere," Raven managed, recalling polite and proper greetings in the Free Marches. "I'm looking for –"

"Garrett!" the old man called over his shoulder, cutting Raven off. "One of your shady friends is here." He muttered to himself as he disappeared back into the hovel, leaving the door half open. Raven stood there awkwardly, unsure if she was meant to follow him inside.

Before she could decide on a course of action, Garrett Hawke appeared at the door. "Raven?" he asked, looking surprised. Raven didn't appreciate the smile that followed as he crossed his arms. "Change your mind about the job?"

"I…I'm…," Raven stammered, looking at her feet and biting her lip for a moment. This was a bad idea. But what choice did she have? And the dwarf had said Hawke had killed slavers before. Surely he would be more of a help than a hindrance. "I'm actually here to… to request your aid," she managed, glancing back up at the mage for a moment, then back down to her boots. Fasta vass, this was shaming, asking a mage for help. A smug one at that.

Hawke looked at her, an eyebrow raised. A smirk tugged at his lips. "You wouldn't work with a mage a few hours ago, and now you want help from one?"

"I don't ask this for myself," Raven growled, frustrated with the mage's tone. She sighed, crossing her arms as she lifted her chin and met Hawke's gaze directly. "I have no coin. So in return for your aid, I will pledge you my own, including with your expedition. And until such a time as you declare my debt repaid. Is that acceptable, _apostate_?"

Hawke blinked in surprise, ignoring the jab. He was fairly certain she was a runaway slave. What must have happened, that she would consider leashing herself to another? "This must be serious, if you're so willing to all but indenturing yourself for an indeterminate amount of time."

"It is," Raven state gravely.

Hawke opened the door wide. "It's too cold to talk out here. Come in while I grab my things. And Carver," he added, waving her in.

"You… you don't want to hear about it first?" Raven asked, still standing outside, hesitating.

"You're a friend of Anders's," Hawke said with a shrug. "I'm happy to help."

"We're not friends," Raven said with a scowl.

"You're not used to asking for help, are you?" Hawke said with an amused smile. "Nevermind. Just come in," he added before she could reply. "Go ahead and warm up, I'll grab my staff," he said, closing the door behind her and waving toward the fireplace. He disappeared into another room while Raven looked around, biting her lip nervously.

The hovel's interior was typical of those in Lowtown, if a bit cleaner. The old man from earlier sat at the table, grumbling to himself over a mug. A large hound lay curled up near the fireplace. An old woman sat knitting nearby, though she stood at the sight of Raven.

"Hello, dear," she said pleasantly, approaching Raven. "I apologize for Garrett's manners, forgetting to properly introduce us. I'm his mother, Leandra Hawke, and this is my brother, Gamlen Amell. You are one of Garrett's friends?"

Raven was not sure how to react. She was used to kindness being a front, a mask – but this woman sounded so… genuine. "I'm Raven," she managed after a moment, taking the woman's offered hand. "Pleased to m–"

"Oh, my dear!" the woman exclaimed. "Is that blood?" she asked worriedly, now grasping Raven's hand with both of hers. Raven remembered the gash on her head, realizing the blood must now be visible in the light from the fireplace.

"It – It's nothing," Raven stammered.

"Nonsense," Leandra said, tugging her over to the chair by the fireplace. Raven, bewildered, allowed it. "You young ones, convinced you're indestructible," she half-muttered, pushing Raven into the chair. "Let me have a look, dear." She reached forward, grasping the edge of Raven's cowl to pull it back away from the wound.

Raven's hand shot out automatically, responding to her fear to keep her ears hidden. Her fingers snapped around the woman's wrist. Leandra gasped in surprise and pain at Raven's tight grip.

The old man pushed up out of his chair with a start. "Garrett!" he yelled, watching Raven with wide eyes. The mabari hound stood up, growling with his ears back.

Raven released Leandra and shot out of the chair, backing across the room. She stopped when Garrett, followed closely by Carver, burst in from the other room. Panic stabbed through her, air catching in her throat as she tried to wrestle down the fear of retribution. This wasn't Tevinter, and she wasn't bound here. Her gaze darted between the mage and the door.

Garrett's eyes flickered, taking in the scene. His mother rubbing her wrist, uncle glaring at Raven, dog growling at Raven, and Raven herself standing away from them, obviously agitated.

"I…I apologize," Raven stammered. "I didn't… I didn't mean to…" She glanced toward the door again, shifting her weight as if to step toward escape.

"Stay right where you are," Hawke ordered, lifting his staff slightly.

Raven stilled, catching the implied threat. She couldn't risk being put out of commission by a spell now, not with the kids in danger. Kaffas ven morti, this had been a major mistake. Asking a mage for help – what had she been thinking?

Hawke walked to his mother, keeping an eye on Raven. "Did she hurt you, Mother?" he asked, an edge in his voice.

"No harm done, darling," Leandra said lightly, flexing her wrist. "I must have startled her is all, reaching for her hood like that. Some people are sensitive about personal space. And she did apologize."

Hawke looked back at Raven, gaze lingering over the blood visible on her forehead. He sighed, realizing what must have happened. "Raven. Sit down," he ordered, indicating the chair by the fireplace she had just vacated hurriedly.

Raven's expression twitched at being ordered to do anything, especially now when she wanted to flee.

"Now," Hawke snapped, meeting Raven's glare. She moved hesitantly, but did as he said. She watched him, and his staff, closely as she sat on the edge of the chair. What was this mage planning? Some kind of punishment for harming his mother, even so slightly?

"Remove the cowl," Hawke ordered.

" _No_ ," Raven snarled. What was his intent in revealing her secret? To embarrass her? Something worse?

"You're bleeding from a head wound. It needs attention."

"It's fine," Raven responded defiantly.

"Maybe she's just vain about her ears," Carver said with a snort.

Hawke sighed. "No one here cares that you're an elf, Raven." He met her glare with an honest gaze. "And I swear on Andraste's ashes, no one here is going to hand you over to any slavers."

Raven hesitated. She looked down at her hands, gripped together in her lap. She bit her lip anxiously, hesitating. Finally, she reached up slowly to push her hood back, not lifting her gaze. After a moment she tugged her hair back as well, fully revealing her disfigured ears. May as well get it over with. She flinched slightly at the sound of Leandra's small gasp. She let her hair fall and brought her hands back to her lap, keeping her gaze cast downward.

"Oh, dear," Leandra said softly. "What a cruel thing to do to someone." She reached slowly for Raven's cheek, but the elf jerked her head back immediately at the touch. She looked up at the Hawkes, hands grasped in her lap and jaw clenched. She resented the look of pity in Leandra's eyes.

Leandra cleared her throat. "Garrett, darling. Do you think you can heal the gash?" she asked, looking at the still-bleeding wound above Raven's eye. "It doesn't look terribly deep."

Hawke shook his head. "Raven's not fond of magic. Could you patch her up, Mother?"

"Heh, can't say I blame her," said the uncle, still standing by the table. "Magic makes my skin crawl."

"Of course, dear," Leandra said, moving about to gather supplies. The mabari seemed to lose interest in the proceedings, now that things were calm once more, and curled up again with a huff.

"Now, Raven. Tell us what's happened, what you need help with," Hawke said.

Raven glanced about at the people watching her. She bit her lip, narrowing her eyes. She didn't like this at all. She was uncomfortable having so many staring at her when she was used to hiding.

"Raven, as I said, you don't need to worry about us telling anyone about –" Hawke started.

"I heard you," Raven snapped. "You will have to forgive me if I am not quick to trust the word of a human _mage_."

"Because you're a fugitive ex-slave from Tevinter," Hawke said candidly, watching Raven for a reaction.

Raven's eyes widened slightly and a retort died in her throat. She chewed on her lip subconsciously, searching Hawke's face. For what exactly, she wasn't sure, but she found an openness there, a… kindness, even, as with his mother. She looked away, staring at the fire.

"…Yes," she admitted quietly, her voice a mix of fear and shame. She started, shifting further back in the chair, as Hawke crouched before her to be at her eye level.

"You have nothing to fear from us, Raven. No one has the right to own another person, and we'll gladly help you keep your hard-won freedom. Alright?" the mage said in a serious, earnest tone.

Raven met the man's gaze for a moment, before slowly nodding.

"Good, glad we have that settled," Hawke said with a slight smirk. He stood again, moving to the side so his mother could approach Raven. She had stood back while they talked, listening but not saying anything.

"You poor, brave dear," Leandra said softly, pressing a wet cloth to the gash above Raven's eye. Raven managed to hold still, though she frowned at the statement. Or perhaps it was the attentiveness the woman was showing her that made her uncomfortable.

"I'm sorry, Messere Hawke, about earlier," Raven muttered. She did feel a bit guilty for hurting, however slightly, the caring woman.

"Hush, there's no need," Leandra insisted, cleaning and patching the wound.

"Now," Hawke said, voice serious again. "Do you need help because hunters are after you?"

"No, not… exactly," Raven started, hesitantly. "There is… a group… of younger refugees. I keep an eye on them. But they… disappeared. Slavers have them," she explained, snarling at the last statement. After discovering the kids were not at Lirene's, she had been through most of Darktown and burned many favors in picking up their trail. The information had led her to the passageways between Darktown and the Wounded Coast – specifically, the old slaver caverns once again housing slavers.

"I tracked them to the Wounded Coast. There are at least a score of the slavers, including at least four mages. There are other captives, too. I can't sneak them all out. And I can't fight them all on my own, and your dwarf friend said at the clinic that you've fought slavers before, so I thought I would… ask you. For help." She felt her cheeks warm slightly, as she was ashamed to admit she had proven incapable of protecting them and unable to rescue them on her own.

Leandra had finished cleaning the wound. Her hands stilled as Raven spoke. "Of course Garrett will help. I cannot say I approve of violence, but slavers respond to little else," she said briskly. She opened a small jar and smeared a bit of its contents over the gash. "That will help close it. You're lucky it wasn't too serious, otherwise I would have to insist you allow magical healing." She replaced the lid on the jar, wiping her hands off on a damp cloth. "Really, you should go to the guard as well. Aveline will see to it that they deal with the slavers."

"I don't know that there is time for that, Mother," Hawke said, checking the contents of a pack he had set on the table. "And the fewer people that see I'm a mage, the better."

"You don't intend just the two of you to go, surely," Leandra insisted, hands on her hips. Raven pulled her cowl back into place, pinning it a little tighter, as she watched the argument.

"I meant to bring Carver, too," Hawke said with a shrug and a smirk.

"Garrett Malcolm Hawke, don't you dare drag your baby brother into such a dangerous fight," Leandra scolded.

"Mother, really," Carver interjected, obviously frustrated. "I'm an accomplished swordsman. I served in the King's army at Ostagar, and we just spent the last year working for a smuggler."

"You see, Mother," the older Hawke brother said, gesturing to Carver. "He's a grown man, though he rarely acts like it, I'll admit."

"Watch it, brother," Carver growled.

Hawke shrugged, placing the pack over his shoulder. "Don't worry, Mother. We'll have some of the others join us. We'll be back tomorrow." He hugged his mother, giving her a quick kiss on the forehead. He stood nearly a head taller than the woman. Leandra sighed, but hugged him back. She hugged Carver as well, slightly longer than with Garrett. The man became uncomfortable, noticing Raven watching, and squirmed out of his mother's arms.

Raven stood awkwardly. "Ah, thank you, Messere Hawke," she managed with a slight bow of her head, not meeting Leandra's eyes. She made a mental note that she would need to repay this woman for the medical care somehow. She jolted in surprise when the woman pulled her into a hug as well. She gave Hawke a bewildered look over his mother's shoulder, but the man only grinned at her reaction.

"And you be careful, too, Raven dear. I expect all of you back for the noon meal, at the latest," Leandra said with a strict, motherly tone. She finally released Raven, noticing the elf was still standing stiffly and uncomfortably.

The uncle stood, arms crossed, grumbling something about too many people taking advantage of his hospitality and using his home. "Thank you for your heartfelt concern, Uncle Gamlen," Hawke said cheekily. "I assure you, we will return unharmed and armed with ravenous appetites. Perhaps we will pick up a beggar or two along the way, and bring them along for lunch as well." The man scowled.

After another quick goodbye, Raven followed the Hawke brothers from the hovel.


	4. Chapter 4

Hawke's smile disappeared as soon as the door was closed behind them.

"This is quite serious, Raven," he said, falling into step beside her while still leading the way.

"I'm aware," she responded uneasily. He had been too quick to agree to help. Did he want something more from her in return for helping her save the kids?

"I'm sure you want to charge out to the coast immediately, but we really do need to find a few others to help us," the mage said, frowning as he thought. He nodded to indicate the tavern further ahead. "Tonight is one of Varric's games of Wicked Grace, so we should find a few friends there. I was about to head over myself, when you arrived."

The swordsman huffed. "He holds a game nearly _every_ night. I don't know how he manages his businesses when he's always drinking and playing cards."

Hawke shrugged. "Varric's in the business of information. A tavern full of drunks distracted by card games is a great place to hear things."

Raven wondered how anyone could hear anything there as the three entered the tavern. The large crowd was boisterous, loud, and drunk. By the looks of it, today must have been pay day for the dock hands and they were celebrating. She followed the Hawke brothers upstairs, uneasy surrounded by so many people. She tugged at her cowl.

"Hawke!" called the dwarf as the three entered the room at the top of the stairs. "You're just in time, we're about to start another hand."

Raven stood just inside the doorway, biting her lip nervously as she looked around. She could sense more magic here, beyond Hawke's. She spotted Anders, who was looking at her in surprise. The healer obviously contributing to the scent. But there was something else, something…heavier. She noted the several people sat around the table, cards, coins, and mugs scattered across its top. Was there another mage amongst them?

"Afraid I'm here to break up the game, actually," Hawke said with mocking severity.

"Oh?" Varric asked curiously. His eyebrows raised in surprise as he caught sight of Raven. "And you brought a new friend. I knew she couldn't resist your mage-y charms for long," he said with a smile and a wink at Raven.

The others around the table quieted, looking with interest at the stranger. Raven stilled. She felt extremely uneasy under their gazes. It reminded her too much of magisters looking at her as if assessing livestock. She met the intense gaze of the elven swordsman for a moment before dropping her own gaze to the tabletop.

"She's certainly pretty," said a tan-skinned woman with a gold necklace, sounding amused. "I was beginning to wonder when Hawke would find a lady. You are a lady under that hood, right?" She stood, approaching Raven with curiosity.

Raven jerked back a step, though the woman was nowhere near her. "Fasta vass, I don't have time for this nonsense, Hawke," she snapped, looking between the mage and the woman.

"And she says such lovely things," the woman said with a laugh, but returned to her seat.

"Oh, and she has pretty eyes, too. Such a pretty shade of blue," said an elven woman with Dalish markings and a smile. "You and Hawke look adorable together," she said cheerily. Carver snorted.

"That they do, Kitten," laughed the first woman. Raven glared at the two, jaw clenched. This was ridiculous – the kids were in danger, and she was standing here being mocked.

"Is this the elf you mentioned, Varric?" asked a red-headed woman with a frown. "The one that attacked you in Darktown?"

Raven's glare snapped to the dwarf, then the woman. "I'm not an elf. I'm _human_ ," she said angrily, a fist clenched at her side. This was not a good day for her secrets, it seemed.

"It was a misunderstanding," the dwarf said with a shrug, ignoring Raven's statement. "One it looks like we've worked out. Decided to join us, Raven?"

Hawke interjected. "Actually, I thought we could give her a hand with a rescue tonight. Slavers on the coast have her friends and others held captive."

"Didn't we just clear out a pack of slavers?" Varric asked, shaking his head. "Some people never learn."

"You should let the guard handle the matter," said the redhead.

Hawke snorted, smiling slightly. "After the 'thank you' we got from your Captain for clearing out those bandits? Sorry, Aveline, I think not. Maybe once you take over as acting-Captain officially." The woman frowned, but did not argue.

Raven watched the people talk, imaging what the kids must be going through while they chatted. She inhaled sharply to clamp down on her growing temper, breathing in more magically charged air. That scent of magic – drifting under Hawke's and Anders magic – pulled at her again. It tasted like…copper. She focused on it, settling her gaze on the Dalish woman. It was definitely coming from her. Raven narrowed her focus more, inhaling deeply.

"Venhedis, you're friends with a _blood mage_?" Raven hissed with a start as she realized the truth, turning to glower at Hawke. She should have recognized it right away. Tevinter mages were drenched in the coppery scent. Her hand dropped instinctively to her collection of throwing knives at her belt.

The room fell silent, some looking at Raven, others at Hawke or the Dalish mage. The elf was blushing slightly, looking at Raven in surprise.

"Raven…" warned Hawke. She looked at the mage, noticing the few sparks of light at his fingertips. She moved her hand away from the knives, but still rounded on him.

"Don't you know what they do to people? Fasta vass, I wanted your help against slavers, and you keep something worse as a _friend_!" Raven sputtered furiously.

"While I don't approve of blood magic, Merrill uses hers only to help people. She never uses anyone's blood but her own," Hawke explained calmly. The sparks at his fingers had dissipated, but he still watched Raven intently. "This isn't Tevinter, and she's not a magister. There are no blood sacrifices or other such grisly things."

Raven's gaze flickered between Hawke and the elven mage, Merrill. If she shut out Anders's and Hawke's magical auras she could focus on Merrill's. She was out of practice, having avoided mages like the Blight since her escape, but she managed it. There was the coppery taste of blood, certainly, but she had to admit, it _was_ much weaker than that of the powerful magisters she had encountered. Raven found it difficult to believe someone who would consort with a demon would stop short of other means of gaining power. But, perhaps Hawke was telling the truth about this particular blood mage.

"How do you know Merrill practices blood magic?" Hawke asked, interrupting Raven's thoughts and looking at her curiously.

"You're a mage, isn't it obvious to you what she is?" Raven said with a snort. "Her magic reeks of blood, tastes like copper –" Raven's eyes widened as she realized what she was saying. She stopped herself with a sharp intake of breath. A moment of silence passed.

"You can… _taste_ magic?" Anders asked incredulously.

"No," Raven answered immediately, desperately, making it obvious she was lying. She bit her lip out of nervous habit. She looked at the door, frantic for a different subject or even to just leave.

"If so, yours must taste of Darktown's dankness and paranoia, mage," rumbled Fenris, smirking.

Anders scowled at the swordsman, but wouldn't be deterred. "Sensing magic – that's another thing templars can do," he said, narrowing his eyes at Raven.

"Mortum vox vass, mage. I'm not a bloody templar," Raven fumed. It seemed Fenris was right about the paranoia.

"So – Raven," Hawke interrupted. Her gaze snapped to meet his. "You still want our help, yes?" He was smiling slightly. Raven didn't like it.

"…Yes," she said slowly.

"And in return, you'll help us out, right?"

Raven recalled her vow from earlier. "Yes. Until you deem my debt repaid," she reiterated uneasily. What was the smirking mage getting at?

"I think we require a bit more, considering you're getting help from all of us," Hawke said, waving a hand at his friends. Raven wondered for a moment at his assurance that all those present would help her simply because he said so. This thought was quickly pushed aside as her heartrate increased. She was already unhappy with having to pledge herself to the mage, but she had nothing else to use as payment. What more could he want? The others in the room looked on, the dwarf looking particularly amused.

"I get the feeling you don't like sharing your secrets," Hawke said with a chuckle. "So I think having you explain the smell and taste magic thing, plus helping us out with jobs, will be enough in return for our help with the slavers. Deal?"

Raven's blood ran cold. Stamen malum ipsi. Why would he want _that_? Because she had forgotten herself and mentioned it, venhedis. And he was a mage – of course he would be curious about her ability to sense magic. Was he worried, like the healer, about her being a templar?

"Why," she demanded flatly.

"To start learning more about you."

Raven jerked back at the unexpected and immediate answer. "Why…why would you want to know anything about me?" she stammered. So he could… what?

"Because he finds you mysterious and _alluring_ ," said the pirate woman in a sultry tone.

"I get the feeling you need help, beyond tonight," Hawke said steadily, not distracted by the pirate's comment. He shrugged. "And helping will be easier if I know what you're hiding, because I'm fairly certain those secrets have a lot to do with your problems. So, we'll start with the magic-sensing thing. You can tell us after we rescue your friends, of course."

Raven looked at the mage, meeting his amber gaze. How was she supposed to react to that? Did he truly mean all that? Did he honestly think she would tell him her whole story? Why would she agree to such a thing?

Ah, because she was desperate for their aid.

She bit her lip, hard, as she thought. She certainly was desperate, to get involved with this mage in the first place. Perhaps she could conjure up a convincing lie about the magic sensing ability. Maybe blame the bracelet again.

"My promise to work for you, and the one secret," Raven said slowly, chewing on her lip. "And all of you will help me kill the slavers and save the captives?"

"Exactly," Hawke said with a nod.

Raven groaned inwardly and looked down at her boots. Her face twisted with contempt as she answered. "Agreed, then. It will be as you say."

"Great," Hawke said lightly. "Let's head out and save some lives by ending a few others." He sounded much too chipper for such a statement. The others all stood up from the table, following Hawke from the room. She stayed where she was a moment, watching the group. That was it? Hawke says it, and everyone falls in line? She followed behind, bringing up the rear as they exited the tavern and headed for the city gates.

"Ready for a midnight stroll on the Wounded Coast, Birdie?" asked the dwarf, who had fallen back from the others to walk beside her. He looked up at her, smiling expectantly.

Raven bristled involuntarily, but tried to hide it with a scowl. "That is wholly uncreative as a nickname, dwarf, considering I am already named for a bird," she muttered. She scanned the area automatically as they made their way through the dark streets of Kirkwall.

"You wound me, Birdie. I'm not often called uncreative. And it's Varric, if you recall," the dwarf said, still smiling whole-heartedly. "And your actual name has nothing to do with it."

Raven couldn't help her curiosity. "Then why 'Birdie'?" she asked.

"You're fast in a fight, and always on alert, like a bird of prey. You're smart, eh, most of the time, like an actual raven, actually," Varric started, chuckling at the 'raven' part. "And you have a nest full of chicks you provide for and fiercely protect."

Raven's gaze snapped to the dwarf, finding him already looking at her. He was still smiling, though his gaze was intense. "How do you know about the kids?" she asked in a low tone, glad the others were too far ahead to hear the conversation and the tension in her voice. Sure, he had seen Garen and Bran earlier, but his tone let on that he knew much more than that brief encounter would allow for.

"After our little run-in in Darktown I was curious, especially about your not-son and the other guy. So I did some asking around," Varric said. "It wasn't too difficult, actually. The 'blue-eyed bird' mercenary-smuggler-thief has been building a reputation in the undercity. Everyone seems to think you're human, though," he added with a wink.

"I would like to keep it that way," Raven muttered irritably. That she was gaining a reputation was also worrisome. The point was to remain hidden. Had Athenril been spreading her name around to people other than Hawke?

"I'll see to that, Birdie," Varric said. Raven looked at him with a raised eyebrow and he winked at her again. Hawke had mentioned Varric was in the information business, and she was getting the impression this was indeed a well-connected dwarf.

"It's not that bad, the nickname," Raven said after a moment's hesitation. "As long as you don't start calling me 'little bird'," she mumbled, memories pushing at the back of her mind.

"Oh? I'm sensing a story," Varric said curiously.

"One I'm not eager to share," she growled, warning away further questions. Damn, she needed to stop talking. Something about the dwarf's manner was disarming.

"Yet, anyways," Varric said with a shrug.

"You think I'll change my mind?" Raven raised an eyebrow skeptically.

"I'd bet on it, actually," he laughed.

"What makes you so sure?"

Varric nodded towards those in front of them. "Hawke has that effect on people. I haven't known him very long, but even I can see it. People are quick to trust him, quick to throw their problems at him." He winked again. "It only took you, what, a few hours? And you're already asking for his help." He sounded amused.

Raven frowned, biting the inside of her lip. "I wouldn't have, if it was about me."

"But since it's about your kids, you asked for help."

"They're not my kids," Raven grumbled automatically.

"Whatever you say, Birdie," the dwarf said lightly.


	5. Chapter 5

The scent of Hawke's magic disappeared. The mage stared at his hands, confused at the sudden lack of magic usually so easy to call to his fingertips.

"You've been Silenced," Raven explained, frustrated. "He used blood magic to temporarily block your connection to the Fade. You will not be able to cast any spells for a while."

"Well, shit," Hawke said, blinking in surprise.

Raven didn't respond. Now they were down one mage, which meant they would have to protect him while he in turn could do nothing to help. 'Well, shit' indeed.

Raven turned to assess the blood mage, the one on their side, supposedly. The elven woman's strength was flagging, her spells noticeably weaker than at the beginning of the battle. Her skin was pale, palms sliced and bleeding. The healer was concentrated on keeping a barrier up around them. They were all injured and tired, there were at least ten of the bastards left, including one of the blood mages, and the captives had been moved onto the ship. Fasta vass, she needed to think of something. Raven's jaw clenched as she considered their options. One in particular came to mind as she watched the blood mage, Merrill, fling a half-charged fireball over the outcropping of rock they were hiding behind.

Mortem ipsi, she didn't want to do that – and for more reasons than just the pain it would cause. It might be dangerous, for her, to reveal this particular secret. But, kaffas, the kids were in danger, and so were the others she had convinced to aid her. Besides, was this secret worth dying for? No, the point of keeping these secrets was so she could _live_.

" – barrier on the warriors, Anders," Hawke said. Even without his magic, he was still obviously in charge. He glanced at Raven, his expression grim. "I'm sorry, Raven. We need to fall back."

"No, we cannot leave – " Raven started.

"Andraste's flaming knickers," the healer muttered fiercely. "We are out of potions, wounded, and still outnumbered. What would you have us do?"

"The warriors will cover our retreat, then we'll cover theirs," Hawke explained before Raven could respond. "We'll get to safety, reassess, and try again." He made hand signals to Varric, the dwarf hidden behind another rocky outcropping. The pirate woman slipped in next to the dwarf, bleeding from a dozen cuts and frowning irritably.

Raven chanced a look over the rocks, seeing the warriors struggling to keep the slavers and their hired swords away from those of their group in hiding. Shit. She would have to do it.

"Wait, Hawke," she said, turning and sliding to the ground, leaning back against the rocks. "I…I have a plan."

"And that is?" the mage asked, skeptical but willing to listen.

"As we start pulling back, they'll follow," Raven conjectured. In her experience, Tevinter mages and hunters were rather vengeful, and wouldn't allow them to just escape after attacking them. "Blood mage," she said, drawing Merrill's attention. "As soon as the warriors are clear, hit the slavers hard while they're bunched up where the path narrows. Healer, you'll likely want to keep a barrier on the warriors, just in case." She wiped her dagger off on her leg as she spoke.

"I'm sorry, I don't think I have much left," the elven mage said, breathing in huffs.

"You will have more than enough in a moment," Raven said, the waver in her voice communicating her hesitancy. Yet, she still removed her gloves and rolled up her sleeve as she spoke, revealing dozens of scars running the length of her forearm. She drew in a deep breath, then slashed her dagger down her forearm.

Hawke immediately shot forward, clamping his hands around her bleeding arm. "Raven, _what_ –"

"Are you insane? What are you doing?!" Anders sputtered in surprise.

"Concentrate on your barriers, healer," Raven growled. She glared at Hawke. This situation was her fault, anyways. If she had not mistaken this man for a slaver they would not be here now, fighting for their lives at her request. "Let go, mage," she said, quieter. "I know what I'm doing."

Hawke searched her eyes a moment, then hesitantly pulled away. He followed Raven's gaze as she turned it to Merrill. The elven mage had a hand clamped across her mouth, staring at Raven's bleeding arm in surprise. Hawke's eyes widened as he figured out what Raven must be planning. "No way, Raven, we're not –"

"Shut up, mage," Raven hissed, now committed to her plan. "Blood mage. You will use my blood to fuel your attacks," she snapped.

"Oh no, I couldn't –" Merrill started, shaking her head.

"The situation is desperate. We are trapped, injured, and exhausted, including you," Raven said firmly.

"But, I don't even have much mana left! I would need a lyrium potion to cast anything powerful, even if I used your blood," Merrill argued.

Raven made a noise of frustration. Fasta vass. She never thought she would have to convince a blood mage to use her as fuel. She bit her lip a moment before continuing hesitantly. "There is… lyrium. In my blood." She held up her arm, the blood welling from the cut and dripping to the ground. It was slightly darker than normal blood, reddish-purple in color. "Use it for your spells, direct your magic through it. The lyrium will amplify your spells, and you can finish off the slavers."

The others stared at her for a heartbeat.

" _What?"_ Hawke demanded, just as a fireball struck the cavern wall behind them.

"Venhedis, we do not have _time_ for questions," Raven snapped. Not that she wanted to answer any questions anyways.

"I…I don't even know… how to…" Merrill stammered.

"Fasta vass, an incompetent blood mage," Raven spat. She never would have thought she would be upset about such a thing, much less that she would ever explain to one how to use her blood in particular. "Direct your raw magic through my blood, as you direct it through a staff. Let the lyrium amplify the magic, then form the spell. You can manipulate my blood just as you do with your own," Raven explained, remember what Hawke had said about Merrill only using her own blood in her blood magic spells. "Understand?"

"Won't… won't it hurt?" Merrill asked, expression one of concern and anxiety.

"It is this or we die," Raven said flatly. "Hawke, call the warriors to retreat to our position. Anders, keep the barriers strong on them, else they be injured by the blood mage's spells. She will not be used to their strength and may overdo it."

Both Merrill and Anders looked to Hawke, who was staring at Raven. He grit his teeth, coming to a decision. "Do as she says," he ordered, before turning to signal Varric and the pirate woman hidden nearby. He then called out to the warriors, and they began to fall back, still fending off the slavers as they followed. Seeing their prey retreating made them eager and reckless. "Now," Hawke said.

Anders drew a deep breath and cast, and the glowing barrier about the warriors grew brighter. Raven grit her teeth and clenched her eyes shut to brace against the anticipated pain, still holding out her bleeding arm. She didn't see Merrill hesitate and look to Hawke again. The mage gave her a nod. Merrill concentrated as she pulled magic from the Fade, gently directing a small swirl of it into the blood seeping from the wound on Raven's arm. She was startled to feel just how much the action increased her magic's intensity. She could feel it, the lyrium strengthening her magic, the blood responding to her will. The power was… intoxicating. Merrill drew more magic forth and directed it to Raven.

The pain was enough to stop the air in Raven's lungs. She bowed forward slightly against it, but otherwise managed to remain still and avoid crying out. Hawke watched her face, noticing a line of blood trickling from her lip where she bit into it.

Merrill drew and directed magic, manipulating Raven's blood with it. A reddish-purple mist rose from the wound on Raven's arm as Merrill raised her hands. She stood fully, looking over the rocky outcropping as the warriors passed the narrow point. The bloody mist hung in the air. The slavers reached the narrowed point, leering as they chased a retreating enemy. Merrill twisted her slender fingers, shaping the mist into needle-like daggers of blood. She pushed her hands forward, driving the needles through the air and spiking into the slavers. Screams echoed as several fell, those still alive panicking. The warriors pounced on them, finishing them off.

The remaining blood mage slaver, still standing farther back in the cavern, screamed in rage. He formed a large fireball above his head.

The fireball sputtered to nothing as the mage slumped to the ground, revealing a woman behind him. The pirate pulled her daggers from his back, her sly smile returned.

"Maker's breath, Daisy!" the dwarf exclaimed, emerging from his hiding place. "Whatever that was, it's damn effective!"

"It was blood magic," Fenris grumbled in disapproval.

"It saved us, Fenris. Let it be," Hawke stated with finality, staring down the sneering elf.

"Hawke," Anders said, alarmed. This drew everyone's attention, and they gathered around the healer. Anders was kneeling, leaning over Raven.

"Don't even think about it, mage," Raven ground out between gritted teeth, warning Anders against using healing magic on her. She breathed raggedly, bleeding arm gripped to her chest. Her face was more pale than usual, beads of sweat standing out on her skin.

"Raven –" Hawke started.

"Venhedis, just allow me a moment," Raven bit out.

"Oh no," Merrill said, hands going to her face. "Did I use too much? I – I've never used someone else's blood before," she said, genuinely anxious and concerned.

"Kaffas, mage," Fenris growled angrily. "You turned your blood magic on one of us?!"

"Fenris, calm –" Hawke ordered.

"You see, Hawke! I warned you, a blood mage would turn –"

" _Fasta vass_ ," Raven exclaimed in exasperation, loud enough to draw everyone's attention once more. There wasn't time for this. She twisted slightly and used the rocky outcropping to pull herself to her feet, letting out a low groan as she did so. The healer hovered closely, but wisely held back from helping her. "I told her to use my blood. Now shut up and we can get the captives off the damned ship."

"You heard her," Hawke said, nodding toward the ship. "Let's finish this."


	6. Chapter 6

More opposition awaited them on the ship. More than they had anticipated. Luckily, though, they had looted several elfroot and lyrium potions from the dead slavers before charging aboard the ship. Hawke's Silencing had also worn off, and the mage was eager to put his magic to use again, Raven judged from the grim smile on his face.

Raven jerked her blade out of a dead slaver's heart, then quickly dodged behind a cannon as a blast of ice crashed by her. Damned mages. Remaining crouched, she glanced about anxiously. She had to find the kids.

A slaver armed with daggers dodged around the human swordsman – Carver, Raven remembered – and made for Hawke. Raven opened her mouth to shout a warning, but the mage saw him coming. A flick of his wrist slicked ice on the deck before the slaver. The sliding slaver died under Hawke's staff as he smashed the man's skull with a heavy swing. Hm. Most mages don't like any physical fighting.

Before Raven had time to contemplate more on the sight, a shout from one of the slaver mages seized her attention.

"Blast it!" the mage shouted at another slaver. "Blow the cargo and we'll run!" The second ran off, disappearing through a doorway across the ship.

 _No!_ The cargo meant the captives. They were going to destroy the ship and those aboard in order to buy themselves time to escape, while she and the others tried to rescue the captives. _Vox kaffas!_

Raven's gaze jumped around, settling on a door on the side of the ship she and her allies controlled. She had to get the kids out. The sight of her allies embroiled in battle barely registered as she dashed for the door. Her kick broke the lock, the door slamming back into the passageway.

"Raven, wait!" Hawke shouted, blasting a slaver with a fireball.

Raven ignored the mage, mind set on getting to the kids and getting them out before the slavers could destroy the ship. She dove into the passageway, disappearing into the dark of the ship.

Hawke and Fenris both took a few steps to follow her. Hawke was stopped by a sword swinging at his head. He blocked it with his staff, twisting to face the slaver head on. Fenris turned to help him.

"Go after her!" Hawke shouted. They had no idea what was down there, and Raven shouldn't face it alone.

With a quick nod Fenris started for the doorway again, only to be slammed in the back by a Stonefist spell. He sprawled forward, rolling as he hit the deck. He came up again, finding a mage and a slaver armed with a sword and shield blocking his way.

Raven dove down the passageway, making no attempt to be quiet in her haste. Her breathing was ragged and beads of sweat dripped from her pale skin. The slice on her arm had scabbed over after a swig of elfroot potion after the first battle in the caves, but she was now bleeding from several new wounds. Raven cursed the blood mage, Merrill. The elf had taken too much of her blood, and getting hit with Hawke's spells earlier in the day hadn't helped any. This left Raven's speed and reflexes slowed, her entire body and mind weakened. She usually healed faster than normal, too – from non-magical wounds, at least – but that was no longer the case at this point.

Raven barely dodged a cudgel, swung at her head from a dark room off the main passageway. She ducked down, the weapon slamming into the far wall. She launched herself up again, driving her dagger upward through the attacking woman's jaw and into her brain. Raven yanked the blade out and the body fell. Raven continued, finally finding a staircase and sprinting down it into the cargo hold.

The hold was lit only by a few low-burning lanterns, the one by the doorway illuminating her face as she entered.

"Raven?" asked a muffled, unbelieving voice.

"Bran!" Raven shouted, sheathing her daggers and driving forward as her elven eyes adjusted quickly to the dim lighting. The human teen was standing against the wall, each wrist shackled and connected to the wall by a short length of chain. Raven could see other captives, including the rest of her kids, bound with shackles and chains throughout the hold. There must be at least two score of people down here.

"It _is_ you!" Bran exclaimed. The youngsters from the Nest echoed him. The unfamiliar captives eyed her with a mix of suspicion and fear, and a few showed a spark of hope.

Raven took in the sight of Bran's bruised face, one eye swollen. He had fought the slavers then. Good. But the bastards would pay for harming him and the others. "I'll get you all out of here," she said, digging her lock picking set from the pouch on her belt.

"Raven!" Bran shouted in alarm.

Raven twisted, dropping the lock picking set and pulling her daggers from her back. A knife drove at her, the slaver gripping the blade snarling. Raven knew immediately that she was too close to Bran – if she dodged, the human would be gutted in her place. Her left hand dropped its dagger as the knife plunged into her abdomen. Raven's fingers wrapped around the wrist of the hand holding the knife, keeping the slaver from withdrawing it. Her right hand slashed forward with its dagger, slicing it deep across the man's throat. Blood splattered and gurgled from his throat as he fell, his hand on the knife dropping with him.

Raven tried to block out the pain, her left hand loosely gripping the handle of the knife in her gut. Blue sparked across her vision. She closed her eyes, and a moment passed as she tried to control her breathing. Bran said her name slowly, worriedly, seemingly from far away.

"Fine," Raven grunted in reply, eyes open again. The sparks of blue still skipped across her vision. She looked down at the dead slaver, blood pooling beneath him. She smiled slightly for a brief moment as she spotted the ring of keys on the dead man's belt. Keys would be much easier, especially with her lock picks scattered over the floor now. And a knife stuck in her. The smile turned to a grimace as she cautiously dropped to one knee, careful to keep her back straight and trying to keep the knife in her gut steady. She slashed the belt with her dagger and pulled the key ring free, then pulled herself up carefully again. She turned back to Bran as she looked through the keys for one that matched the lock on the shackles.

"Raven," Bran gasped, seeing the knife buried to the hilt in her abdomen. "You –"

"I know," Raven said through gritted teeth, concentrating on trying a key in the shackle at Bran's wrist.

"But shouldn't you pull – "

"I'll bleed out if I do," Raven said tensely. Her fingers were shaking as she tried a second key. Stamen malum ipsi, it was not looking good for her. She just needed to get the kids out. That was all she needed to concentrate on right now, getting the kids out before the slavers blew the ship. Then she could worry about trying not to die in her weakened state.

The shackle clanked open.

Raven's sigh of relief was cut short at Bran's gasp of pain as his arm fell free. "It's broken," he said in answer to Raven's unasked question. "…in a couple places," he added reluctantly.

Ooh, these fuckers were going to die.

Without a word Raven managed to maneuver herself so she could unlock his other wrist. This arm wasn't broken, so she handed him the keys. "Free the others as quickly as possible. Is there another way out of the hold?" she asked.

Bran shook his head. "No, it's just the door you came in through."

Raven groaned inwardly. She had no idea how much time they had, and there were so many captives to free. And only one key. And only one way of escape. And she couldn't send them alone, unprotected. Kaffas, they needed to move quickly. She noticed the lock pick by her boot, reflecting a glint of light from the lanterns.

"Get Lily out first," she directed Bran. "Lily, find my lock picks here." The human girl nodded at Raven from where she sat nearby, wrists shackled together. Raven had been teaching her lock picking – hopefully she had learned enough and hopefully the locks weren't too complicated. "Once a few are freed a group can head to the deck. There are others there helping us, but there's still slavers." Fasta vass – she hadn't been thinking of her allies. Shit. Hopefully they were holding their own.

Raven squared off across from the door she had entered through, dagger ready in her right hand. She hadn't bothered to retrieve her dropped dagger, her left hand instead loosely gripping the knife handle protruding from her gut, trying to keep it steady.

A few moments passed. Raven could hear clinks behind her as shackles and chains were removed and people set free. There was another noise, though. Raven turned her head slightly, her ear bent toward the doorway. Footsteps. Coming fast.

Raven grit her teeth and bent her knees a bit, eyes focused on the doorway. She counted down in her head as the steps grew closer. Another set of shackles dropped behind her.

The older male elf Lily had just freed scrambled for the doorway, panic in his eyes.

"No – don't – " Raven stuttered taking a step forward to stop him.

"I have to get out! I can't – " the man was cut off as a shield stormed through the doorway, slamming into him and knocking him down. The slaver was a human woman missing her helmet and still bleeding slightly from a head wound. She spiked her sword into the fallen man's chest. She jerked her sword back and stepped over the corpse, pointing the weapon at Raven.

"You! Get away from those slaves!" she commanded.

Raven's mouth set in a grim line. She yelled in rage as she threw her dagger at the woman's head. The slaver pulled her dented shield up just in time to deflect the blade. She pulled the shield down, a cruel smirk on her face.

Raven yanked the knife from her gut and threw.

"Ha! You – " the slaver started, her taunt turned to pained gurgling as a glowing hand sprouted from her chest at the same time the knife thunked into her forehead. The hand drew back, pulling a crushed heart with it, letting the woman's body fall next to the captive she had killed. The elven swordsman – Fenris – stood in the doorway, his tattoos glowing and his lips twisted into a snarl. His dropped the heart carelessly, eyes turning from the corpse to meet Raven's gaze.

Raven, her left hand pressed against the knife wound now bleeding freely, jerked her chin at the captives. "We have to get them out," she managed through gritted teeth. "Before they – "

"We killed the rest already, and took care of the charges," he snapped. "You are a fool. Running off without aid – did you think you could kill any number of slavers you encountered? What help would your death be?" Fenris growled.

Raven glared at the swordsman. Her legs were shaking beneath her, and her vision was going blue at the edges. Fasta vass, stamen malum ipsi, _not now_.

"Just – just get them out," she huffed, sinking to one knee. She clenched her eyes shut against the pain, willing the growing feeling to go away. She didn't see Fenris's expression change.

Lily approached and dropped to her knees at Raven's side, gripping her shoulder.

"Get away!" Raven snarled, shoving the girl away with her left arm, hard. The girl fell back and scooted away, but the movement had unbalanced Raven as well. She fell to her hands and knees. Her body was awash in pain, her vision swimming in blue. She did not try to stop the bleeding anymore, her thinking no longer clear.

"Mage!" Fenris shouted back through the doorway. "Anders! Get down here!"

Raven's breathing grew more ragged. Thick drops of blood fell rapidly from her abdominal wound, splattering on the wooden floor beneath her. Her eyes were squeezed shut, and she was muttering breathlessly in Tevene. Her forehead dropped down to the floor, both hands clasping her head. She didn't react when Lily placed a hesitant hand lightly on her shoulder again.

Bran approached. He dragged Lily up with his good arm, pulling her back and against his chest. "Stay away from her. Remember – "

The boy was interrupted as Hawke and Anders burst into the hold, the others close behind them.

"Free them," Hawke said to the others, indicating the captives. He focused on Raven. "Anders –"

"On it," the healer said, kneeling next to Raven. He pushed her over onto her back, pulling her hands from her head and pushing back her cowl as he looked for wounds. "Raven! What happened? Where are you hurt?"

"Te vas vilis," Raven muttered, eyes still closed, hands returning to gripping her head.

"What – what did she say?" Anders asked, glancing briefly at a smirking Fenris.

"She said 'Fuck you,'" Fenris answered.

Anders huffed, pulling at the leather armor around the abdominal wound that was still bleeding profusely.

"Anders, don't – you really shouldn't – " Bran was trying to say.

"Don't worry, we'll take care of her. Is she injured anywhere else? The blood loss must be going to her head and we need to –" Anders started.

Raven's eyes snapped open, her pupils tiny black points in a sea of glowing icy blue. Her fingers snapped around Anders's wrist, drawing his attention to her face.

"Raven, stop – what are you – " Anders sputtered angrily. If she was about to say no magical healing with a wound like this – wait, what was with her eyes –

A long stream of Tevene came from Raven. Her grip on Anders's wrist weakened and dropped away. Tears welled in the corner of her eyes as she spoke, looking between Anders, Hawke, and Fenris.

"What is she saying, Fenris?" Hawke asked, glancing at the swordsman.

Fenris's expression was dark. "Her mind is not here. She thinks you two are magisters who aim to harm her and the others," he said with a scowl. "The rest is not for me to share. It is not meant for our ears."

Hawke looked back to Raven, holding her gaze. "It'll be alright, Raven," he said softly, placing a hand lightly on her arm.

Anders sighed but said nothing. He clasped his hands together over the still-bleeding gut wound.

"Anders – don't – " Bran said.

"This is ridiculous!" Anders exclaimed, frustrated. "I know she doesn't like magic, but if I don't heal her she'll die!"

"Or you might kill her!" Bran yelled back. "It isn't just that she doesn't _like_ magic – magic _hurts_ her!"

They were still for a heartbeat. Magic – even healing magic – _hurt_ her?

Raven's shaking fingers touched Hawke lightly on the arm, drawing his attention. Tears welled from her icy blue eyes. Hawke wrapped her hand in his own. "Venano. Adiuva mae. Neco te mae," she all but whispered.

"Fenris?" Hawke asked, not taking his eyes from Raven.

Fenris hesitated a moment. "She… she asks for aid."

"Heal her, Anders," Hawke ordered. "Just enough that the wounds won't be fatal."

Anders nodded, placing his hands over the abdominal wound once more. As his hands glowed blue with healing magic Raven's body tensed. As Anders's spell intensified, she screamed.

An explosion rocked the ship at that moment. Captives screamed in fear and panic.

"Damn! We missed a charge somewhere!" Carver shouted. The room listed slightly to one side.

"Get everyone off the ship! Now!" Hawke ordered. If the blast had been low enough, the ship would now be sinking. Captives scrambled through the doorway, heading for the deck.

"You too, Hawke," Aveline stated, leaving no room for discussion.

"As soon as we can move Raven. Aveline, Fenris – get those kids out of here before they get trampled," Hawke said, nodding at the kids gathered around Bran and Lily, other captives streaming by. "Anders?"

The healer returned to his work, the hum and glowing blue of healing magic immediately more intense than when he had been interrupted by the explosion.

Raven's strangled scream cut off as she fell into welcoming unconsciousness.


	7. Chapter 7

Hawke rushed down the gangplank carrying the unconscious Raven, Anders right behind him. The slavers' ship was listing badly to one side, sinking into the deep water channels that cut through these caverns.

"Did everyone make it off?" Hawke asked as he kneeled to set Raven down on the rocky sand. He looked around, taking stock of the freed captives and his friends. "Where's Isabela?"

"Checking for treasure," Varric answered, nodding back toward the ship.

"On a sinking ship?" Carver scoffed.

"She's a pirate, Junior. I'm sure she's been on a sinking ship before."

"Aveline." Hawke turned to the red-headed warrior, his concern for their pirate friend on a shipwreck minimal. "What's it look like?"

"Nearly forty captives by the looks of it. A fair mix of elves and humans of all ages," she said, summing up the situation. "From what I saw there are some injuries, but most look more dehydrated and weak than injured."

Hawke nodded. "We'll go through the slavers' camp for supplies and see to everyone. Then – "

He was interrupted by a cacophony of noises, creaking and breaking timber, echoing through the caverns as the ship behind him crashed onto its side. It sank rapidly now, the deck on an angle and only partially visible.

"Damn it, Isabela," Hawke muttered, watching the scene.

"Shouldn't we go help her?" asked an anxious Merrill.

"No need, Daisy," Varric said, pointing.

Isabela popped up from a doorway, fighting the incline of the deck as she dragged a wooden trunk.

"Damn it, Isabela! Leave it!" Hawke shouted.

Either the pirate didn't hear him, or didn't care to listen. She reached the elevated side of the deck and managed to push the trunk between the railings. It scrapped down the curving bow that was usually underwater but now raised into the air. Isabela vaulted the railing, following the trunk down. It splashed into the water, Isabela right behind it. Both resurfaced after a brief moment. Isabela swam toward the shore pushing the floating trunk before her. The ship groaned behind her, settling ever deeper into the water.

Hawke sighed, but waded in to help her pull the trunk ashore. "Was that really necessary?" he huffed, dragging one end of the trunk through the sand.

"We just wasted a fine ship. I'm at least getting something out of the deal," Isabela retorted with a smile.

"As I was saying," Hawke said, turning back to the others instead of wasting time scolding the woman for taking such a risk. They all took risks all the time, so it was not as if he had any high ground to stand on. He looked over the people they had freed. They stood and sat, scattered across the shore, watching him and the others. "There'll be supplies in the camp. We can patch everyone up, have a rest, and get everyone back to Kirkwall."

"To the Void with that," said a human man of middle age and build, having overheard him. "I thank ya for savin' us, but I'm takin' my family back now. Need to get back to Dark Town an' see if anythin's left of our stuff. Someone's prob'ly run off with it all by now."

Hawke shrugged. He wasn't going to mother a grown man, or assume he himself had any authority over these people just because he and his friends had rescued them. He wouldn't abandon them, though. "Aveline, Carver. Can you two escort anyone back who's ready? The tunnels leading back to Dark Town will be quickest." And hopefully free of any slavers, bandits, or giant spiders. But just in case, it was best to send a couple warriors.

"You're sending me back?" Carver huffed angrily. "On an escort mission?"

Hawke gave Carver a look. He was too tired to deal with his brother's whining and constant need to prove himself. "Merrill and I will be helping Anders see to the others. Varric's crossbow isn't very helpful in the confined spaces of the tunnels if you do run into trouble. Isabela is preoccupied with her treasure hunting. Fenris knows the most about slaver operations, so it makes sense for him to stay. Now that I've wasted time explaining why my plan is the best, why don't you run along and _do what I said_ ," Hawke finished with a snap.

"You're not as smart as you think you are, brother," Carver retorted.

"That's right, _you're_ the smart one. The _smartass_. Now go, so we can help these people," Hawke snarled.

"Come on, Carver," Aveline said, interjecting before the brothers could really get into it. "Do you want front or rear guard?" she asked, leading him away. Carver gave Hawke a final glare, but followed.

Hawke sighed. That would come back to bite him later. And they had been getting along relatively well lately.

"Hawke," Anders said, drawing his attention. He was kneeling next to Raven, hands pressing a bloody cloth to her abdominal wound. The bleeding had slowed significantly, but he had not closed the wound completely with healing magic. He didn't know if it was the wounds and the blood loss, or if his magic really had harmed her, but her condition was worsening. "Her heart rate is dropping and – " Anders stopped, catching sight of those kids again, hovering closely. "We need to get her bandaged up, quickly."

Hawke's gaze followed Anders's glance to the kids, then back to the healer and the unconscious woman. Anders looked ragged and exhausted. Even with the added power of the spirit inside him, his magic had been pushed to the limits between all the fighting and healing. Hawke himself and the rest of their team weren't doing so well, either. "Right. Let's get to the camp and see what we can find."

Hawke moved to lift Raven from the ground again, but Fenris pushed passed him. Having spent so much time amongst mages he could tell Hawke was on his last legs, both in a magical and physical sense. Hawke nodded his thanks as Fenris straightened, Raven's limp form in his arms.

They all turned to look at the ship, as with a final groan and spout of air bubbles it sank beneath the surface.

"Alright," Hawke said. "Let's go ransack the camp." 

* * *

It had been an hour since the rescue. Anders had done what he could for Raven. They had left the still unconscious woman to rest in one of the slaver tents. The boy Bran was watching over her, with instructions to get Anders immediately should anything change. Anders had gone to see to others' injuries, and Hawke had left to scrounge up some blankets for those kids. They hadn't moved from in front of the tent the whole time Anders and Hawke had been treating Raven. Hawke approached Raven's tent a few minutes later, seeing Bran standing outside. He was speaking with the oldest girl in their group, the younger kids gathered around them.

"How is she, Bran?" Hawke asked.

The boy shook his head. "Nothing's changed since you left," he said. The oldest girl tapped Bran's arm, jerking her head toward Hawke.

Bran hesitated, glancing at the kids staring at them solemnly. "Lily wants me to ask… do you think Raven will…"

"Anders said she's stable now. He wouldn't have left her side if he thought she was still in danger," Hawke said, sounding unworried. He didn't mention how difficult it had been for Anders to get Raven's condition stable, even with help from Hawke and Merrill. They had kept the kids, including these older two, out of the tent while they worked, keeping them from seeing the worst of it.

Bran nodded, though Hawke could tell he was still worried. He noticed one of the little boys yawning, reminding him of why he had come back just now.

"Here," Hawke said, holding out a pile of blankets. He nodded toward one of the larger tents set further down the row. "That one's big enough for all of you. You guys can settle in for the night there."

Lily glared up at the mage. Hawke raised an eyebrow, unsure what he had done to offend the girl. Lily huffed angrily and snatched the blankets from his arms. She turned her glare on Bran, then stalked into Raven's tent.

"What she means is," Bran explained, "thanks, but we'll stay with Raven."

Hawke glanced over the group of kids attached to Bran. "I don't think there's enough room for all of you. And I'm sure Anders will be in and out checking on Raven all night."

"That's fine," Bran answered. He shooed the kids into the tent as he held back the flap with one arm, the broken one immobilized in a sling. "Today was…" The teen hesitated, gaze searching the ground as he considered how best to describe the hell they had just been through. "Well," he said finally with a half-hearted shrug, giving up on any attempts at eloquence. He sighed, looking Hawke in the eye. "We just need our family together right now."

Hawke's expression softened. He could understand that. Wanting, needing your family close and safe after a horrifying experience. He thought briefly of Bethany.

"Alright," Hawke said with a nod. "Get some sleep." A wave of exhaustion hit him as he walked away. There were others to see to, though, before he could even think of sleep.

Aveline and Carver had taken more than half of the freed captives back to Kirkwall through the tunnels. The rest were injured or too weak to go just yet, or were part of Raven's little group. Hawke wondered briefly as to the story behind that particular situation. How had an elven fugitive ended up as guardian of a group of kids in the Free Marches? And such an odd mix – he had counted four humans, two elves, and one dwarf in the group. They couldn't all be related. Was Raven collecting orphans? Or did she know their families perhaps? Maybe the kids had been snatched from their families, so were sticking close to Raven because they knew her?

"Hawke," Fenris said, interrupting his thoughts and tossing him a small blue vial.

"Ah, thanks." Hawke caught the vial, popped the cork, and downed the liquid. He, Anders, and Merrill had been through several lyrium potions already while seeing to Raven's wounds. A tired sigh escaped him as he sat on a nearby crate. He twisted the emptied glass vial in his hands thoughtfully. "I noticed you don't just call me 'mage' anymore, Fenris. You use my name."

The swordsman bristled and frowned. "Everyone else calls you 'Hawke,' as well."

Hawke shook his head, smiling slightly. "I was just going to say thanks. I know you and magic… well." He shrugged. Maybe he shouldn't call attention to Fenris seeing past his magic. Maybe doing so would make him stand-offish and distrustful again. Well, more so than he still was now. "Just, thanks."

Fenris hesitated, then nodded.

"So," Hawke said, changing the subject. "Find anything else useful?" he asked. They had been going through the slavers' camp set up with the cavern.

Fenris listed off his findings. They had found a fair supply of lyrium, elfroot, and other useful potions, as well as food, medical supplies, weapons, clothing, and of course the tents.

Hawke frowned. "It looks like they were set up to be here quite a while."

Fenris nodded. "From what the captives said, the slavers were snatching people from Darktown and the Alienage in Lowtown. They've been at it for near two weeks, though the captives had difficulty keeping track of time in this cavern and the ship's hold."

"The ship could've held, what, another twenty people or so? Even if filling it took them another two weeks, that would still leave a lot of supplies leftover," Hawke said, looking around at the camp. "It looks like this was supposed to be a long-term arrangement."

"You're right about that. Looks like they were out to reestablish some of the old slave trade that used to run out of these caverns," Varric said, approaching with a sheaf of papers in his hands. Isabela was close behind him, smiling, carrying a small drawstring bag.

Varric held out the papers to Hawke. "We finally got that trunk open. Found these under the false bottom. There's letters from slave merchants, estimates of value for the captives, and a record of costs associated with setting up a long term post in the Free Marches."

Hawke shifted through the papers, scanning the information, his expression dark. He paused on one sheaf in particular. "I recognize some of these names," he said, voice weighted. "This is a list of Kirkwall officials and nobles."

Varric nodded. "My guess would be they're people the slavers thought they might have to bribe."

"That's what these were for," Isabella said. She dumped out the drawstring bag on the crate next to Hawke. A small pile of gems spilled out, glinting in the firelight from the torches that lit the cavern.

Fenris swore in Tevene. "They were going to let their own citizens be carted off as slaves!" he snarled, jabbing a finger angrily toward the list in Hawke's hands. "They deserve no better than the slavers!"

Hawke spoke quietly, though his voice was tight with suppressed anger as he tried to be rational. "If there's still these gems here, maybe the slavers never actually bribed any of them. Still, we need to check them out," he said, looking to Varric.

The dwarf nodded. "I'm on it, Hawke. I'll ask around, see if any of our friends here had any out of town visitors lately." He took the papers Hawke offered, rolling them up and placing them in his jacket.

Isabela scooped the gems back into the bag. "Aren't you glad I saved the trunk? We would've missed out on this information. And these pretty little things," she said, holding a particularly bright ruby up to the light.

"We should sell those, and spread the coin amongst the captives," Hawke said. At Isabela's frown, he continued. "They were kidnapped, beaten, and almost forced into slavery, Isabela."

"Fine," Isabela said with a sigh. "You know just how to ruin a girl's good mood, don't you, Hawke."

Hawke ignored Isabela's pout. "Aveline said she'd get a list of those she and Carver took back already. We'll get the names of those here and ask where we can find them later. Think you two could find discrete buyers?" he asked of both Isabela and Varric.

"These are already perfect for discretion," Isabela noted. "Just gems, plainly cut. If they were set in jewelry or cut in particular styles they'd be easy to track. These guys knew what they were doing."

"I doubt the slavers were new to bribery and other unhanded dealings," Varric said. "Anyway, she's right. That'll make it easier to move them in the underworld. I'll speak to a few contacts."

Hawke nodded, then stifled a yawn. I had to be close to dawn by now, though it was hard to tell in this cavern. "Alright. You guys get some rest. I'll take first watch," he said, stretching a bit as he stood. All of them were exhausted, having been up and fighting all night. Anders and Merrill were still across the camp, seeing to the others they had rescued. Anders would be especially exhausted, his healing put to extensive use. Though they were all tired, they still needed to set a watch. Who knew if there were more slavers that might return? Or what other dangers the Wounded Coast could throw at them.

"There's one more thing," Varric said, pulling a couple folded papers from his pocket. "Seems they were keeping an eye out for runaway slaves. There were also some wanted posters in the trunk. These in particular caught my eye."

Fenris took the papers Varric held out to him. "It's a decent likeness," Varric said as Fenris unfolded the papers. "But they didn't really capture the broodiness."

The first poster had two sketches of Fenris. One was a close up of his face, the other full length to show his distinctive armor. Fenris couldn't read the script on the poster, but he recognized the emblem in the bottom corner. The symbol of Danarius's house.

Fenris sneered, moving to rip the paper to shreds.

"Hold on there," Hawke said, snatching the papers from his grasp. "You didn't even read it." The script was in both Tevene and the common tongue. Hawke read it aloud. There was a physical description of Fenris, though it just called his lyrium markings tattoos. "'Called Fenris. Last seen in the Free Marcher city of Kirkwall. Likely armed and dangerous.' Heh, that's one way of putting it," Hawke chuckled.

"Danarius wants me captured and returned, but doesn't want everyone to know what I can do, else someone should take me for themselves," Fenris ground out.

Hawke nodded. "That's quite the reward he's offering," Hawke said, tapping the large sum listed on the poster. "'Wanted alive. Property of Magister Agoston Danarius of Minrathous,'" Hawke finished reading.

"The coward sends others after me," Fenris sneered. "Let some mercenaries or slave hunters try to capture me. Once I kill enough of them, he will be forced to face me himself."

"Calm down, Broody. He's not here now, so you can stop glowing," Varric said. Fenris's tattoos had started to glow as his anger grew.

"This one is… Raven?" Hawke asked, drawing the others' attention. He was now looking at the second poster.

This one had two sketches as well, though both were portrait-sized. One was face forward, the other in profile to show one of her cut ears. Hawke read the script on this one aloud as well. The sketches and physical description matched Raven, including the cut ears, scarred forearms, and the scar that cut through the corner of her lips and down her neck. "'Skilled with daggers. Called Avis. Property of Magister Octavian Antonius of Minrathous. Reward of – '" Hawke read, before Fenris interrupted him.

"Antonius?" Fenris asked, blinking in surprise.

"Someone you know?" Isabela asked.

"He and Danarius experimented with lyrium together." Fenris gestured at his tattoos. "These markings. Antonius helped Danarius create the process to carve lyrium into my skin." Fenris's expression darkened as he remembered the two magisters, working in Danarius's laboratory. Remembered the screams of the slaves they experimented on. Remembered how he had done nothing to save them.

"If he was her master, then that would explain the lyrium in her blood," Hawke said, frowning.

Fenris was not alone in his surprise, Isabela and Varric also looking bewildered. Hawke saw their expressions, then sighed, running a hand through his hair.

"Right, you three didn't hear that part earlier, when the slavers had us pinned down. Raven convinced Merrill to use her blood. She said there was lyrium in it, which would fuel and amplify the spells," Hawke explained.

"That… doesn't seem healthy," Varric remarked.

"If her abilities are the result of an expensive experiment like yours, Fenris," Hawke said, "that would explain the high reward listed here."

"That's a big bounty. No wonder she's trying so hard to hide," said Isabela, looking over Hawke's shoulder at the poster. "Covering her ears, saying she's human, staying in Darktown. Going by a different name, too," Isabela said, tapping the name 'Avis' on the poster.

Hawke sighed. "We can ask her about it when she wakes up. Do you… want yours, Fenris?" he asked, holding out the poster of Fenris.

"No," was Fenris's snarled reply. "I'll take first watch," he said, storming off.

"Well if he doesn't want it, _I_ do," Isabela said in a sultry tone as she plucked the poster from Hawke's hand.

"And I don't want to know why," Hawke said. He folded the poster with Raven's likeness and slid it into a pocket. He would show it to Raven later. He wasn't sure how she would react to such a thing as a wanted poster, but surely she should know that there actually might be slave hunters in Kirkwall looking for her. "Since Fenris volunteered for the watch, I'm going to get some sleep," Hawke said with a yawn.

"Need some company?" Isabela asked, tone still sultry.

Hawke waved a hand over his shoulder dismissively as he walked toward the tents. "Goodnight, Isabela, Varric." He heard the dwarf chuckle, then footsteps going in the opposite direction.

He headed for one of the smaller tents. He hesitated before entering, deciding he should check on Raven's condition before heading to sleep. Anders was likely still helping others, or maybe catching a much-needed nap between patients.

Hawke approached Raven's tent and pulled the flap aside quietly. He had to smile at the already sleeping kids. Raven was on the bedroll they had found at one side of the tent. The kids had laid out blankets from the side of the bedroll to the other side of the small tent. Lily was curled up next to Raven, close but not touching the injured woman. At the other side of the line of blankets was Bran. The rest of the kids slept between Lily and Bran, piled nearly on top of them and each other in the small space. The human boy, Garen, actually was on top of Bran, laying on his stomach across the teen's abdomen.

Hawke slipped in, doing his best to not to step on anyone. He finally managed to get to the other side of Raven, though he was forced into a crouch and had to lean forward a bit right next to the slanted tent wall. Maybe he should have insisted the kids sleep in another tent, if only to make it easier to get to Raven to check on her. He didn't have anything near Anders's skill with healing, but he knew the basics. He could check Raven's condition, and would know enough to determine if Anders was needed.

Raven lay still on the bedroll covered in a thick blanket, her eyes closed and expression relaxed in sleep. Her breathing seemed steadier now, if still a bit quick. Hawke was just relieved she was still breathing at all, really. Besides the knife wound to the gut, she had sustained a wicket slash across her shoulder, another over her knee, bruised ribs, and the self-inflicted cut down her forearm, in addition to a half dozen other bruises, cuts, and bumps. They'd had to remove her armor as well as her clothing down to her smallclothes to get to her injuries, the bloodied armor and clothing piled in the corner near her head. Maybe they should've moved it elsewhere before letting the kids in here. They had at least cleaned up all the bloodied rags and medical supplies.

Hawke lifted Raven's wrist gently, finding her pulse still weak and fast. With the blood loss her heart was working overtime with what it had. Hawke pulled back the blanket so he could check the other wounds. He was glad to see she hadn't bled through the bandages at her shoulder or abdomen, confirming that Anders had succeeded in closing the wounds without magic. Anders had complained briefly about having to stitch them closed – magic was so much quicker and cleaner, with less risk of infection. With what Bran had said about magic hurting her, though, they had to find a balance so that their efforts to save her didn't kill her.

Hawke replaced the blanket. He looked at Raven's face as he thought, drumming his fingers on his knee. Someone really should stay with her, as her condition could change suddenly. The kids where all asleep already, including the older two. Not that he could blame them. They'd been through a lot, especially for kids.

Hawke stifled a yawn. He managed to maneuver into a semi-comfortable sitting position next to Raven, leaning against one of the tent poles. He would keep an eye on her.


End file.
